In 1990 it was still easy. To pluck cormorants
From the still spring air, to spin rivers down
Muddy slopes, a dollop of leather conditioner
And we were off to the races, fanning ourselves
And sweating in the sun. I wasn't placing bets then,
Mind you, but the smart money says that the
Crumpled newsprint between the boy's hands
Spins like a woozy skyscraper. When he looks
Up at the clouds all the colors are wrong, and
While blind to certain shades of pink he's just as
Prone to blaming it all on Prefesser Moriarty. Milk,
Mayonnaise, and other dairy products have taken
To smelling funny. The labels peel right off
The jars. I'm not making this up.

"And to think that any one of these would have come to serve
As the eggshell." But things were thinner then and as
The teakettles nodded off, as if in anticipation, I began to enjoy
My castles with smaller and smaller windows. Your friends can
Push me down, make all the fun of me they want. From the battlements
I'll blow the stems off their dandelions. They'll experience time
As a train of tsunami rolling over the polders. Elsa's
Blonde braids and the dogs will end up in Otto's toothy maw.

Turning my head to the side, I notice my cousins. Four
And seven years old, they wave tiny televisions at each other,
Rootin' and tootin' like the good old days. Yeah, the good old
Days. Pass the ground beef, the corticosteroids, the paper airplanes
Wrapped in last month's newspapers. Don't you like flowers any more?
Last week I had a bunch of chrysanthemums mailed home.
They smelled like a dream about snowflakes. The cancellation stamp
On the postcard I got back said something like "Beware addressing."
I threw it out before I had time to think about it.